Christmas Cease Fire
by Wakkomonkey9258
Summary: Every week before Christmas, total peace settles on the Mojave Wasteland. The NCR and the Legion declare a truce for the holidays, and enemies celebrate together. Everyone loves this time of year, especially stuffing themselves and getting drunk.


A Christmas Ceasefire

In the Mojave Wasteland, a universal rule dictates that every Christmas Eve and Christmas and the week before Christmas, every person must cease fire against his neighbor and instead celebrate merrily with their enemies. Everyone gladly followed this rule, as it allowed a two day rest from the hardships of the irradiated Wasteland. In the week before Christmas, all the creatures hide in their dens and sleep peacefully over the Christmas break. Travelers no longer had to fear Powder Ganger raids, as the Powder Gangers were all celebrating drunkenly with each other in companionship. Mercenaries took the day off to celebrate on the strip or wherever they happened to live. The NCR Quarry Workers are given the day off, and the Viper and Jackal gangs meet with the Khans in a massive beerfest Christmas Celebation. This is the only week of harmony in the Wasteland where people can finally rest in peace.

All around, every town in the Mojave is decorated in bright lights, and a massive tree provided by the Super Mutants of Jacobstown hung in the center. Feasts were prepared, cookies and sweets and whatever tasted better than the usual sewage cooked by the town chefs. The chefs of the towns all knew to save up their ingredients for this celebration, and they were careful when giving out food to customers. Massive stores of liquor were brought out and shared among comrades, to drink until their vision went black or their stomachs came pouring out on the floor. At this point, every town was dressed up to the fullest and the food was cooking in the ovens, smothering the towns across the wasteland in colorful aromas.

In Goodsprings, the buildings glowed with multicolored lights and a tall, healthy pine was standing proudly in the center. The doors were decorated with wreaths, and the smells of wonderful food drew the settlers to the bar where Trudy was cooking up a storm. At the table in the corner of the bar, Sunny Smiles (true to her name) sunnily smiled with Ringo at her side. Ringo had returned for Christmas, as he'd promised and they were enjoyng every minute of it, alot more physically than anyone would have liked. Doc Mitchel, mysteriously enough, was helping Trudy cook her seventh batch of perfectly cooked Brahmin steaks, and he wasn't doing so quietly. In fact, he was grumbling incessantly. "How did you convince me to help you with this?" He grumbled.

Trudy glanced back at him as brought out another batch of Christmas cookies, "Quit your whining old man, that bum leg of yours isn't stopping you from grilling those steaks."

"My hands aren't as steady as they used to be," he muttered.

"You didn't have any problem stitching up that poor dear's head, Doc."

"I'm a doctor, not a cook."

"Then use some damn steady old man." Trudy snapped. Doc Mitch only grumbled and flipped the steaks over again.

In Primm, The Bison Casino and the Vikki and Vance were glowing as with lights and a massive tree was tied onto the roof of the Bison Casino. The NCR troops from across the way had come to Primm and were currently enjoying each other and the presence of the other Primm citizens. Inside, Beagle had managed to jury-rig the stereo system with the help of Primm Slim, and pre-war Christmas tunes played softly through the speakers and wafted through the buildings as much as the aroma of the food did. Much like Goodsprings, the kitchen was ablaze with the sounds of furious cooking as Ruby Nash served the Radscorpion casserole that everyone in Primm loved so much. They ate them up as fast as she served them. Next to her, was a giant sack of Radscorpion poison glands that she was eating through quickly. Deputy Beagle sat at the bar and ate his casserole gleefully, devouring it ravenously. Lieutenant Hayes looked at him in bemusement as Beagle quickly ate away a second casserole and asked, "What is so appealing about those casseroles?"

Beagle stopped short of digging into his third casserole and stared at the Lieutenant in surprise, "These casseroles are some of the best food in the wasteland, can't get enough of them," Beagle looked at Hayes with raised eyebrow, "You haven't tried these things yet?"

Hayes shook his head and Beagle placed his third casserole in front of the Lieutenant, who eyed it skeptically, "Aren't these made with poison glands from a Radscorpion? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"I'm not dead yet am I?"

Hayes couldn't help but agree with that, Radscorpion poison was infamous for killing instantly. He still couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive as he took his first bite. Immediately, flavors exploded in his mouth like artillery shells. He devoured the rest in ten seconds flat. Then as he looked at Beagle (Who looked a lot more smug than he had a right to) with watery mouth, he could only say,"That was the greatest thing I've ever eaten."

Beagle grinned and grabbed two more casseroles for himself and the Lieutenant.

At Boulder City, what little NCR troops were left in the city, if it could be called such, were grouped together in the bar and drinking themselves unconscious. Lieutenant Monroe drank his second swig of whiskey and then downed the entire bottle in one gulp. He felt a little fuzzy, but he wasn't terribly drunk just yet. Ike came over and leaned over the bar toward him sympathetically,"Wish you could be on the strip Lieutenant?" he asked innocently enough.

"Anything's better than here Ike," Monroe grunted, and then added,"No offense."

"None taken Lieutenant," Ike replied,"It's a boring shithole here, I usually end up drinking my own booze."

Ike looked over and nodded at the table where Private Ackerman and Private Gilbert were sitting together with a single bottle of liquor between them. They weren't drunk, and the two seemed to avoid eye contact with each other in that I-really-like-you-but-I-won't-admit-it kind of way. Ike grunted at the two, and Monroe thought he saw a slight smirk come to the usually grim faced bartender. "Weird how being in a hostage situation can bring people together," Ike remarked amusedly, before leaving to procure more alchohol for the men in the back. Lieutenant Monroe stared at the two troops for another moment before leaving to get himself another bottle of wiskey.

Only a few miles away, the occupants of Camp Forlorn Hope were feeling alot more hopeful as they celebrated Christmas by dancing around the Christmas tree to Christmas music and downing drinks for themselves. Corporal Betsy of the First Recon was having an arm wrestling match with Bitter-Root, which Bitter-Root found himself quickly losing. Even the usually uptight Leiutenant Gorobets was cracking slightly slurred jokes with Corporal Sterling who was a lot more obviously drunk than Gorobets and was laughing at every word Gorobets uttered, even if it wasn't funny. No one had any idea where Ten of Spades was, but no one was really worried about him that much. Major Polati and Dr. Richards were sitting together while Reyes, in vain, attempted to sweet talk one of the power armored heavy troopers.

"Son of a bitch!" Bitter-Root snarled as Betsy trounced him for the third time in a row, and he forked over his fifty caps reluctantly.

"Damn Bitter-Root," A random private crowed over the cries of the other troopers glorifying Betsy's victory,"You lost to Betsy? Your weak as shit man!

"She's on chems or some shit, man," Bitter-Root grumbled, "Fucking bullshit."

"Watch your l-l-language Bitter-Root!" Ten of Spades roared with his ususl stutter as he seemingly appeared from no where looking alot sweatier and more frazzled than when they'd last seen him,"Or else Betsy'll whoop your ass."

"The hell you been Spades?" Bitter-Root asked, wrinkling his nose and attempting to ignore Betsy's crows of victory, "You smell like fucking dirt."

"J-J-Just having some F-Fun Roots," Spades crowed and licked his lips rather lasiviously.

"Dammit Spades!

Camp McCarran was abuzz with activity as everyone headed to the mess hall for the massive feast Corporal Farber had prepared for the entire camp. This feast included perfectly cooked Brahmin steaks seasoned with spices. Everyone was ready to dig into the feast and stuff themselves silly after having gone weeks on beans and corn. Well, mostly everyone anyway. Centurion Silas wasn't part of the celebrations, and wasn't enjoying himself in the least. It wasn't because he was surrounded by NCR troops, because Caesar's orders to enjoy Christmas with their enemies extended to everyone, even him. Silas simply didn't enjoy the holidays like everyone else, he simply found it pointless. Still though,orders were orders, and he found himself in a lonely corner digging into a Brahmin steak (Which he grudgingly had to admit was actually very delicious) . and thinking to himself.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't notice Lieutenant Boyd stop in front of him. He noticed her quickly though and scowled,"What do you require Lieutenant?"

Boyd crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow, "You could try celebrating with us Silas, your dampening the mood with your brooding."

"No."

Boyd rolled her eyes, "Silas, don't be a grinch. Christmas is a time to celebrate, and you aren't celebrating."

"I don't like Christmas, or celebrating, unless it involves the death of an enemy."

"Don't be difficult, I don't want to have to hold your hand through this. You wouldn't want that would you Silas?"

"The idea of you holding my hand is a fantasy of mine Lieutenant." Silas replied sarcastically.

Boyd smirked, "Good, because your coming with me to celebrate with the men and a few drinks."

"I don't drink."

"Get the pole out of your ass Silas, let loose for once. I bet I could outdrink you."

Silas' eyes narrowed at the Lieutenant, "Is that a challenge Lieutenant?"

_Gotcha,_"Maybe it is, Silas."

Silas glared at her and stood from his chair, dropping his steak to the floor,"You will lose."

Boyd smirked.

At Red Rock Canyon, the Viper, Jackal and Khan gangs were celebrating together by consuming large amounts of alchahol together. Papa Khan was down to his fifth mug of beer and was laughing at nothing at all. The Jackal leader, James, was drunk out of his mind and was in his drunk stupor making slurred advances at the Viper leader, Sarah. Sarah was perhaps even more drunk that Papa Khan, and was giggling like an insane witch. "You look pretty," James slurred and reached for her again.

Sarah giggled and stepped back,"Nope, gonna hafta catch me."

James followed after her and reached for her long hair, managed to grab a fistful, and tugged. That small tug threw the already Sarah tipsy off balance and crashed into him, and they both crashed to the ground. James then proceeded to torture the viper leader by tickiling her exposed neck and kissed her on the lips. Sarah laughed and squirmed under his brushing fingers, screeching for him stop. Several Viper, Jackal, and Khan members took notice and then burst out laughing. Two Khans grabbed several mugs of liquor and spilled them over the two at the roar of the crowd.

James chuckled and licked Sarah's wet skin, while Sarah continued to laugh. Papa Khan meanwhile, pushed through the crowd and bellowed,"GET A DAMN ROOM!"

At Westside, despite being poor, people were following old Christmas tradition and were searching for gifts for loved ones. Miguel was giving out free candy to the kids, Red Lucy was featuring even more special four way creature matches for the crowd's amusement. The Casa Madrid's prices were cut in half for christmas.

Pretty Sarah was in her usual spot in the lobby of the Casa Madrid, leaning on the wall next to the stairs, and tuning out the usual moans from the whores. It was a normal day mostly, she didn't have any families to buy some shitty gift for, so she wasn't very excited by the fact that Christmas was near, except that the town didn't have to fear attacks from Fiends and Scorpions. She was drawn out of her thoughts when the door opened for the hundreth time. She was about to say that all their rooms were full, but stopped short when the massive, hulking, and grayish skinned figure of Mean Sonofabitch squeezed through the door into the lobby, looking rather sheepish for all his size and muscle.

Sarah didn't know much about Mean Sonofabitch, she tended to skirt around the Super Mutant like most of Westside. All she knew was that the bastard was good to have in fights. Her eyebrows shot up despite herself, "What the hell are you doing here? You here for a whore?"

"Er, no." He said awkwardly. Sarah remembered that Sonofabitch had his tongue cut off and spoke pretty brokenly.

"Then why are you here?"

Mean looked sheepish and reached into the many folds of his makeshift armor and pulled out a necklace. He held it out to her, and Sarah saw it was made of jagged peices of scrap metal. She frowned at it and looked at Mean who looked back at her with a strange nervousness. "It's for me?" She asked.

"No famwy, gow gif'," Mean said brokenly, but Sarah understood it well enough.

"Where'd you find that out?" Sarah demanded.

"Migel," He responded, and shook the necklace insistently. Sarah frowned deeper, wondered why Mean would ask Miguel about her, but reached up and took the necklace anyway. Mean grunted and quickly fled before Sarah could say anything else. She stared at the entrance he'd left from and then down at the necklace. For a reason she couldn't explain, Sarah smiled.

Freeside was currently basking in a rare time of peace, and the kings were making the best of it. They were celebrating Christmas at the Old Mormon Fort, and they were all enjoying the sunny Mojave day. Pacer was nursing a drink in the corner, and several of the other kings were enjoying themselves talking with the Followers of the Apocalypse. Trudy Farkas and the King were sitting together in a tent, and the King was currently apologizing to Trudy.

"I want to apologize for partially destroying your office after you told me about Rex, Trudy."

"It's alright King, I know you're very fond of Rex," Trudy assured him.

The King frowned, "I'm the King, I should be able to keep my temper in check about anything."

Julie hesitated for a moment, but reached over and patted the King's shoulder,"Your only human King."

The King frowned, and then smiled a little, "Thanks Julie."

Julie dropped her hand and leaned back in the chair. The King took a drink of scotch and sighed contently. Outside, Pacer stared at the King and Farkas talking together and scowled in disgust. _King's getting soft,_ he thought and then smiled deviously, _In time King. In time. _Then Pacer slipped away from the old Mormon Fort to scheme and to plan as he always did.

The Strip was, of course, as loud as it always was. The street lamps were decorated with wreaths, a giant christmas tree, sixty feet tall in fact, was hanging in front of the Ulta-Luxe casino, near the fountain. The flashing lights of the Tops had been changed to green and red to match the holiday, and the band in the theatre was playing some smooth Christmas tunes. Swank was wearing a green sweater strangely enough, and his usual buisness pants. It raised some eyebrows for people just entering. Multi-colored lights were strewn about the walls of the Casino, adding a pleasant glow to the already bright room. The Ultra-Luxe had wreaths covering every wall, and mistletoe was hung over every doorway for the couples present in the Casino. The masks of the White Gloves were now like green ivory to match the holidays, and Christmas music played softly through the speakers. The Casino held a light and cozy atmosphere that masked the dark secrets beneath.

As for Gamorrah, nothing really changed. The price for a prostitute was cut off by 50%, while ghouls were 75% off. Nothing really changed, it remained the cesspool of sin it was known for being. It would be hard to turn something like Gamorrah into a cozy den for Christmas time. Still though, it was a great place for one who wanted to buy themselves a present.

Meanwhile, far, far away from the strip, Caesar's Legion celebrated Christmas within the confines of the Fort. Slaves were allowed to mingle with the Legionaries, training sessions were cut short, and Legionaries were simply allowed to have fun. Every Legionary in the Mojave had been recalled to the Fort to celebrate, except for a few, and the Fort was now filled to the brim. Among the people who had been recalled rather early, was the feared Legate Lanius, who looked out among the camp and could only see pure chaos. The Fort had been turned upside down as stiff Legionaries were finally allowed to let loose. In the chaos, Lanius could pick out a few people he knew.

Dead Sea, who'd been recalled from Nelson, was carrying a young slave, maybe 22, in his arms toward his tent. Dead Sea himself looked inebriated and the slave barely conscious. Decanus Severus was filling himself up with food, and chatting it up with a Centurion who looked like he'd gone through a meat grinder. Aurelius of Pheonix, as haughty as always, was refusing to join in the festivities and was sneering in disgust. Canyon Runner was slumped up against a wall and looked very much dead, but the Legate knew the man was most likely only unconscious. Karl was chasing a woman around the camp, and managed to grab her, only for her to grab a nearby cooking pan and smash him over the head with it. Lucius was having a rather heated drinking contest with Vulpes that ended with Lucius breaking Vulpes' arm (Lanius had to laugh at that) and Otho was deuling anyone who would challenge him, and Lanius had no idea where Caesar was.

Lanius was sure he was one of the few people in the camp who was still sober, his mask made it difficult to consume liquor. Canyon Runner, now conscious but still looking half asleep, stumbled up to Lanius with a blurry gaze. "Hey Lanus," Canyon Runner slurred.

_Dialated pupils, offbalance, dead look in the eyes_, "Canyon Runner, did you take jet?"

"A few doses."

"You do realize that drinking liquor and taking jet at the same time is a bad idea, correct?"

"Mmm be fine." Canyon Runner insisted. Lanius sighed, then caught sight of Caesar and two Praetorian guards playing a game of Caravan. Lanius raised an eyebrow at the two.

"How does Caesar know how to play caravan?" Canyon Runner didn't answer, and when Lanius looked back he saw that Canyon Runner was once again unconscious. Lanius could only sigh again.


End file.
